


Kiss and Tell

by YamiXenara



Series: The Spellwound Order [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Anakin Skywalker is Well Adjusted, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ends on a Hopeful Note, It Doesn't Really Help, M/M, Magic, Morning After, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan Spirals, Purple Prose, Slash, Soul Bond, They Feel Each Others Emotions OK, They Kriffed OK, They do talk about other things though, They need to sit down and have that talk I mentioned, Well for this Fic that will probably change later though, obi-wan is emotionally constipated, panic attack sort of?, starwars but with magic instead of the force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiXenara/pseuds/YamiXenara
Summary: “Do you want me to fight you? Scream about how it’s not fair? How I canfeelhow you feel, that youenjoyedbeing with me? I already know all that. But it doesn’tkriffing matter.” His voice raised, teeth grit, then he exhaled. All tension leaving his body in a single fluid movement. He looked so exhausted, and sounded equally hollow, “I don’t want to have to fight you, to coerce or convince you to want me. I just… I just want you to choose me, of your own will."
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Spellwound Order [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899223
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> 3rd in the series, I'mma be slowing down. I pre-wrote 5000 words, and have been editing, so this is the end of my pre-written drabbles. 
> 
> Set a year or two after A Thrice Bound Ring.
> 
> I am well aware of my failures as a writer - oocness, purple prose, grammar problems, tenses. All the good stuff, that being said I welcome constructive criticism! Hopefully, I'll have more of this soonish!

Neon light filters in through the slats in the window, illuminating the room in a flickering mottled array of purple, red, and blue. The constant stream of humming noise from the ever-moving nightlife is the loudest sound in the room. Beneath the steady thrum of life, is a far sweeter sound – the soft and steady breaths of a man waking from sleep. A yawn joins the noise and breaks the steady stillness of the room.

“Ob’-Waan?” His name is drawled yet mumbled, sleep hazed and soft as the man who said it fights the dregs of sleep. Obi-Wan Kenobi shifts just slightly, looking down at the man beside him, his eyes blink sleepily as he catches his gaze. “Wharyou doin’ awake?” His eyes flicker to the glowing timepiece on the side table, “t’s midnight Obi.” The man stretched, long limbs moving rhythmically, a lithe stretch of lightly scarred golden skin. A thin sheet preserved the slightest of modesty but did nothing to hide the red-purple marks that littered his skin. A sight that was no doubt mimicked on his own skin.

“I could not stay resting, there’s still too much to do with our mission.” Obi-Wan shifted, slipping further from the warmth beside him, his eyes firmly scanning the room, rather than the man he sat next to.

“What’s the real reason?” A hand wraps around his wrist, piercing blue eyes catch his own stormy grey.

“Nothing Anakin, I swear.” A quirked brow and muffled sigh, Obi-Wan lightly pulled his wrist from Anakin’s grasp. “I’m just… I’m not quite used to sleeping with other people.” Anakin tilted his head messy hair curling around his face and neck, his expression inscrutable. He didn’t reach out for Obi-Wan again but instead sat up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve slept in the same bed Obi-Wan.” He didn’t quite smile, but his lips curved into the shadow of one. Even as he said it, Obi-Wan knew he knew it was different. Everything was different. Everything had meaning it never did before, a charged emotion like the static before a storm. It tasted of danger and sat on the back of his tongue. Obi-Wan could feel him tap at the back of his head, a rhythmic knock, the lightest of brushes. _Lemme in Obi_. Obi-Wan averted his eyes and inhaled sharply. “We both know it’s different now Anakin.” _Yes, engaging in carnal relations does tend to have that effect_ , Obi-Wan thought sardonically, _How did we think this was a good idea?_ They weren’t thinking, which was the problem. It was a combination of alcohol and emotional build-up. The constant hum of another mind in the back of their heads, the adrenalin of a dangerous mission boiling into a situation they should have avoided. Every muscle ached with the languished satisfaction such indulgence brings. Obi-Wan felt sick that he’d allowed it. Obi-Wan felt sicker that he didn’t regret it nearly as much as he should. _You’re lying to yourself Obi-Wan, you know it was more than emotional build-up._

“Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be.” Anakin’s voice was worryingly flat, lacking the customary flash of righteous anger Obi-Wan was expecting. Bedsheets rustled, the frame creaked, and Obi-Wan could hear the pad of footsteps. Another rustle, heavier, clothes being added to a tall broad frame, _one he knew intimately well now_ , layering themselves into a different kind of armour than what they wore on the front lines. Obi-Wan waited for the outburst, the sharp tang of rage racketing through his mind – invasive and insidious – but all that filled the sudden stifling stillness, was an exhale, then silence. Obi-Wan shivered, covered only by a thin crumpled sheet and his own self-loathing. _Why wasn’t he saying anything?_ His pulse leaped to his throat, his fingers clasped together in his lap.

“No admonishment? No fight? Quite unlike you, my dear.” The words forced themselves from his mouth with uncharacteristic bitterness. He barely recognised his own voice, as thick as it sounded. Shame, sorrow, a flash of heat, a deep aching engulfing emotion wrenching their hearts… he hiccupped in his next breath, pulled down the rising tide of his own emotions, and smothered them with his walls.

“Is that what you want?” Anakin’s voice was so weary, so… like an old much-beloved blanket worn to bare threads. Obi-Wan turned to take him in. An angel cast in shadow; robes flared around him. So beautiful it hurt. His face was mostly cast in darkness, every now and again a beam from a passing speeder lit the room and illuminated his face. The smudges beneath his eyes looked darker than they did mere hours ago, his face gaunter than yesterday. His hair dirtier, and skin greyer. Diminished but still stunning. Obi-Wan kind of wanted to hate him for it. His hands made an abortive gesture, a sign of exasperation, the right gleaming as it often did in the right angle of light, “Do you want me to fight you? Scream about how it’s not fair? How I can _feel_ how you feel, that you _enjoyed_ being with me? I already know all that. But it doesn’t _kriffing matter_.” His voice raised, teeth grit, then he exhaled. All tension leaving his body in a single fluid movement. He looked so exhausted, and sounded equally hollow, “I don’t want to have to fight you, to coerce or convince you to want me. I just… I just want you to choose me, of your own will. I want to be wanted without all – “

He gestured again, a sharp movement with an even sharper click of his tongue, “I could fight and fuss and beg until I’m bluer in the face than Master Secura, and it won’t kriffing matter in the end because you’ll always feel ashamed or- or _guilty_ for wanting to be with me. Like I’m some ill-gotten good. I don’t even know _why._ Because it’s an abuse of power? Mentors aren’t supposed to start relationships with their apprentices. Well too bad! I’m no longer a Journeyman, and we’re 6 years apart in age, not 16.” His fists clench, and his jaw grits shut. He closes his eyes as he shakes his head. 

“I just… Obi-Wan, I can’t - I won’t decide this for you. This isn’t on me. I’ve made my peace with it. Yes, I want you, yes, I enjoyed what we did, _yes_ I’d definitely be down for a repeat performance. But I’m not going to be a convenient kriff, I’m not going to pretend what I feel for you doesn’t exist. I can feel it, you can feel it, I know you can feel it, and I know you feel the same way. But I’m done making excuses for you.” Obi-Wan slumped forward, a ragged exhale escaping from his lips. His thoughts burned; his shoulders tensed. He fidgeted. Anakin… wasn’t wrong. It was all on him, it was always his fault. 

_He constantly hurt him, he was never enough – wasn’t a good enough mentor, managed to get him hurt over and over- how long until he got him killed? And now he couldn’t even do this right, couldn’t keep what little bit left of Anakin he had safe. He just kept hurting him and failing him, and he’s not good enough, why would Anakin really want someone like him after all? It was probably Obi-Wan’s emotions clouding the bond affecting how Anakin feels and kark that was coercion right there he –_

_Calm Obi, come out of there_

“- Wan? Obi-Wan?!” Two firm hands held his shoulders, dragging his eyes to Anakin’s. He looked concerned, a trace of fear deep in his eyes. He smelt of warmth, of the spice-mix in their shared apartment back on Coruscant. He smelt like home. “You checked out for a minute there. Breathe with me Obi.” _Home_ , his forehead hit Anakin’s shoulder, the pillowy fabric of his dark outer robe bunching around the slight depression he made. He matched his breath. Anakin's arms wound around him. Safe, comforting. Warm.

“Earlier was a mistake.” A flash of hurt through the bond, pushed down then back up, a flicker like an unsteady flame. But also, reluctant acquiesce. Anakin would not push, would never push in this if Obi-Wan didn’t push first. “I wasn’t ready.” Hope, small and fragile bloomed, “I’m… For all I’m talented with people, I’m not good with intimacy. This… this is more than… I’m – Anakin, my dearest, this -us- is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I’ve… I’ve loved, deeply, painfully so before. I’ve lost. But…” Obi-Wan stopped, stuttered on a breath, and caught himself. Calmed, and looked up firmly to catch Anakin’s eyes with his own, “I won’t be the best at this, I have my own problems, my apprehensions. I need time, to work through my anxieties – to stop centering on them. But someday, perhaps soon, I’d like to try.” A bloom so bright, a warmth so brilliant it crested into euphoria between them. A giddy sigh slipped from Obi-Wan before he could stop it and an embarrassed flush spread from his cheeks to his chest. With a stern shake of his head, Obi-Wan pushed away from Anakin, stood, and began to dress. Anakin’s hand caught Obi-Wan’s shoulder, smoothing down the rolls of fabric, and lingering near his collar. The look he gave Obi-Wan was tender, the smallest of smiles curling his lips, but it was real. 

Obi-Wan had worries, he’d likely always have worries. But Anakin was, in all the ways that matter, home. He’d work it out eventually. He had too.


End file.
